


Created with Something Different

by JaneyB33



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Familial Bonds, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holoforms, Human/Cybertronian life, Optimus is so dad, Other, Ratchet is also so dad, Transformers Spark Bonds, Violence, baby spark, family building, slice of life-ish, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27448567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneyB33/pseuds/JaneyB33
Summary: An amalgamation during Aldo's creation would lead him down an unprecedented path, both for humans and the alien autobots alike. With keen interest being taken into the boy after the discovery of a new, dormant spark he carries within him, NEST intervenes to seize the target. Though being the target is a child, they opt to provide him with a life among special ops and their co-existing robotic aliens for observation - perhaps even a decent life. Aldo's beginning may have been without a family, but it would sure end with one hell of a bunch.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Signature](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590394) by [arabis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabis/pseuds/arabis). 



> Hello! Thank you for joining me on my first fic! There will be themes and concepts inspired, if not completely created, by Arabis, the Author of the "Signature" series. They've given me permission to use said concepts for my own work, and if you haven't already I HIGHLY suggest checking them out. Their writing is absolutely brilliant! I'm still figuring out how to use Ao3, so if I'm doing it right, I'll have their story linked! (Please forgive me, I may be doing a lot of post editing in terms of formatting until I get a grip of how it works ><) There also might be some easter-eggs in par with Arabis's material, but this story won't be so exclusive that you can't follow it if you're completely new. If anything like that should appear, I'll do my best to thoroughly explain.

“Thank you, Miss Susan!” 

“Mmh-hm, be careful headed back out on those streets now. Snow‘supposed to be pickin’ up again soon and them roads are already slippery.” The bells looped and knotted around the door handle had jingled upon opening to exit the bakery. A blast of chill, moist air was sent down the boy’s spine and resulted in a vicious shiver from himself. He didn’t reply, by now one variation or another of this conversation was to be expected every time he rolled in here. And as usual, his silence was met with a near scolding warning, “ _Aldo_.” 

“ _Okaaay_.” He sang back, and once the glass door jingled shut behind him, he lifted a mittened hand without looking to say goodbye. With a gentle shift in weight, the young boy moved aside away from the door but hadn’t yet entered the sidewalk completely. His nose, rosy and runny from the cold, sniveled before biting down on the tip of his pink mitten and used his teeth to pull it off. Fingers free, he was quick to pull the chocolate croissant out of the pastry bag and sink his teeth in. The warmth of the flakey bread warmed his mouth and the semi-sweet chocolate chunks sweetened his tongue. No matter how long of a day it was, there was almost nothing that could stop young Aldo from his end-of-the-week treat at The Baking Corner. It was one of the few consistencies in his life, one he perhaps unknowingly clung to. 

After shoving his mitten into his coat pocket, throwing away the pastry bag next, with a greater push of his weight the wheels of his quad skates rolled and began to carry his body up the slightly slanted sidewalk. It could have been an exhausting endeavor, but for an active boy his age, one who skated everywhere when given the chance, it was nothing but routine in his life. Aldo had just turned twelve two weekends ago, he was bright but quiet, kept to himself mostly unless asked otherwise. Like most boys his age, he was still baby-faced and hadn’t yet hit a growth spurt, his hair was dark and cut short but long enough to still leave evidence of helmet-head. Despite that almost being a staple point to his daily look, the overall most pronounced feature he carried were his mismatched eyes. Heterochromia, a fancy word for a mutation that led to easy bullying in his experience, and the prescription glasses he wore that made his eyes look double in size didn’t help in hiding the fact. His left eye was a stark brown, it almost blended in with his pupil in most casual lighting, whereas his right was a _piercing_ , brilliant blue. It wasn’t uncommon for people to double take at his face, adults were less subtle about it, kids in his class though? Speaking of which...

_Thoomp!_

The side of Aldo’s face was met with snow, hard, compact snow that broke apart and splattered across his cheek. There was a waver in his skating but fortunately with the help of a nearby light pole he was able to balance himself. His nose had scrunched, one of his eyes closing as a burning sensation started to take over. To remedy this, he tried to rub at it with his remaining mittened hand, wobbling his glasses in the process.

“Hey Odd-Eyed!” came a jeering voice, and just as Aldo went to drop his hand he was left cowering behind it as yet another snowball came his direction. This time it only hit his shoulder. It was a group of boys around his age, four of them, and they were all bigger, meaner. “Nice pink gloves! What are you, a _girl?_ ”

More snowballs came at him, some missing but a couple hitting him. One in the leg, another in the gut. They didn’t hurt, but it was annoying and embarrassing, a frown present on Aldo’s face with each grimace from each impact. He knew better than to reply, and the anxiety bubbling in his gut told him to flee the scene as quickly as he could. 

“Aw, c’mon! Where ya goin?” 

The sound of the ticking, which already registered in Aldo’s mind as the spokes from their bikes, boosted his adrenaline. His eyes grew, throwing a glance over his shoulder to see the eighth graders mounting their bikes and making an effort for a chase. Something of a wavered whimper quivered from his throat, shifting his weight left and right in heavy strides. Wary enough of traffic to at least throw a half glance over his shoulder, Aldo hopped off the curb, his knees bent and body leaned forward. What cars were on the road were stopped at a light, the boy weaving through them in a sloppy panic to put as much distance between himself and the other boys. There were quite a few times he had to place his hands on cars to prevent from crashing completely, each landed with a heavy thump following. The occupants probably weren’t very happy, and the several honks that came after enforced the thought. He would usher an apology each time, face guilty and tense, but he didn’t dare to stop, continuing to push off the cars and slide between them. 

Another sudden cold blow to the face caught him off guard, and for a moment the snowball felt like there was something a little more than just compact fluff. Aldo let out a harsh grunt when his shoulder came crashing into the side of a vehicle, his hand falling flat against the short, tinted window on the drivers side. An odd feeling struck him, like a tingling warmth that vibrated throughout his arm, but mixed with the cold temperatures and his current state of panic, it didn’t linger on his mind any longer than had it appeared to begin with.

There were sounds of laughter mixed with hurried, but amused, yelling to retreat. The car next to them had opened their door, a woman stepping out and looking bewildered from the incident. She turned to the boy hunched against the running Camaro. “Are you alright?” Her voice was soft but urgent, carrying concern that Aldo felt nothing but embarrassed by. 

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered in a small voice, keeping his gaze away which instead landed on the car he was still leaning against. All in a moment of realization, he pushed himself back, staring at the sleek, yellow and black muscle car. The fact that it looked so… _cool_ made him panic even more that he had ran into it in the first place. People could be crazy about their cars.

For a moment he just stared, the windows were so tinted that he could easily see his own reflection, and with it, the bloody scratch on his cheek became apparent. The skin on his face had been so cold that he was numb to the feeling. “U-Um,” the boy blinked, taking a step back in hesitant confusion. The driver hadn’t stepped out yet, or even rolled down the window, but the engine was rumbling lowly and puffs of cloud were emitting from the exhaust pipes as the warm air hit the cold. “I’m sorry!” Was all he could muster to say, fixing his glasses before moving to take off again, ignoring the woman, the car, and anything else that came after. 

Aldo didn’t dare to look back, he just skated, desperate to get off the main streets. Even with his assailants gone, the feeling of panic and embarrassment brought on a crushing self-conscious shame, but unlike the scratch on his face, Aldo didn’t need to feel it to know he had begun to cry. 

* * *

It wasn’t too long after that a curb along a neighborhood road became an appealing pitstop. He had done maybe a half hour of roller-skating to get to this point. It was a backroad, the backside of houses being visible over their wooden fences while the other side was a vast peach orchard. Of course in this time of year, the trees were barren, nothing but branches carrying layers of snow instead of fruit. 

Aldo sat with one leg stretched out, the other thoughtlessly rolling back and forth on the heel of his wheels. It wasn’t until after he somewhat composed himself that he realized he was still holding onto his chocolate croissant, albeit was it smashed, compressed with a fitting indentation of his palm and fingers. His eyes stared with no particular interest, lidded and bored despite still having an extra glistening shimmer from leftover tears. The boy ate his pastry in silence, and at some point had taken off his helmet to allow the wind to gently toss at what pieces of hair weren’t stuck sweaty to his forehead. 

The final bite of the treat was a quick one, popping it in his mouth before tossing a look at his watch for the time. He would be late returning back to his group foster home, and he could already hear Mrs. Laura making a fuss about how he shouldn’t be out in the cold any longer than necessary. 

A cloud of air puffed from his mouth as he sighed, closing his eyes all together and letting his shoulders hunch. In his silence, he opened his eyes again to look at his hand, the one that surely left a solid handprint on that Camaro. The recollection of the - _buzzing_ warmth came back to him with confusion. Mm, the car was running and he was cold, the heat from the window probably just gave him a little shock. Whether or not it made sense, it’s what he convinced himself. 

With a confident deep breath, Aldo pushed himself back up to his feet, dusting crumbs off his pants then slipping on his mitten so both hands could be treated to some fuzzy comfort. Adjusting the straps of his backpack nice and tight, he swooped up his helmet and started off in smooth, steady strides. Skating down the road, his thoughts settled on his still rumbly belly and wondered if they would be having the stew he’s been bugging his-

Yellow. 

_Aldo paused in his thoughts, bringing a foot back and turning it to drag the wheels against the pavement for a t-stop. It was in the flash of his peripherals, the color of yellow. “...” He skated backward until he was at the end of an alley he just passed, one that was paved between homes and led into the neighborhood. At first there was nothing, nothing yellow anyway._

__

Seconds later, just as he had, a yellow Camaro with black racing stripes reversed into view at the other end. Que to, once again, make a run for it. There was no thought, just the renewal of fear that told him to flee. His face was tense, teeth at a grit, and his mind raced with thoughts: Was that the same Camaro?! How did they find him! And why? They were pissed because he ran into their pretty paint job, weren’t they? See? People _were_ crazy about their cars!

__

“ _Gaah_ ,” he whimpered and watched as for every gap between a home, a flash of yellow could be seen steadily following him. Before he could panic too much and begin to worry about stranger danger, it was as if someone was watching over him, a parked red and white emergency vehicle being a distance away upon taking that first turn off the backroad. Relief washed over him instantaneously, throwing a glance over his shoulder to see the whereabouts of the Camaro. It wasn’t there, or maybe they hadn’t caught up yet. 

__

Aldo looked back, coming to a stop in front of the… ambulance? A very decked out, military grade, armored ambulance. At first he had only registered the colors and instinct brought him to feel safe, but it was clear even to him that this was no ordinary rescue vehicle. It looked more like the ones he saw in war action movies - a lifted frame, heavy-duty tires, and one killer grill guard. The door opened, sounding as heavy as it looked, followed by an almost equally as heavy boot coming in contact with the ground. From it came an older man, dressed in uniform - none that Aldo could recognize. A navy-blue long sleeved tactical jacket with cargo pants to match, tucked into black boots, and some sort of insignia patch at the top right breast. He looked a little beyond middle aged but healthy and strong, his eyes, which had crows feet wrinkled in the corners, were a frosty blue and held an intimidatingly bland gaze - almost analytic, and his unsmiling face made Aldo nervous. There were wrinkles between his brows, as if for most of his life he spent it being grumpy about something. His hair was pushed back to be mostly out of his face but the ends did curl at the sides of his neck, riddled with strands of silver in his otherwise caramel colored hair. He honestly looked like a grandpa, Aldo thought, a really healthy, in-shape, kind of scary, grandpa. And it was just the two of them. 

__

No one spoke, being the kid, Aldo expected the “adult professional” to start the conversation. But he didn’t. Instead they just stood there, the boy growing uncomfortable while the man gazed at him almost suspiciously. 

__

He couldn’t take it anymore and took a breath to speak. 

__

“What happened to your face?” 

__

Aldo drew back, mouth still parted from where he was about to talk. It took him a second to understand the question. Oh, right, his face. “Uh,” he lifted his hand and touched his cheek, “I, um, scratched it.” 

__

“Obviously.” The man’s voice was raspy and curt, taking steps to approach the boy but stopped when seeing his eyes grow with trepidation. “...Do you want me to help you or not?” Though it certainly wasn’t the nicest way to offer, his tone wasn’t necessarily harsh, just forward and even softened.

__

“Are you,” multicolored eyes drifted to the emergency vehicle behind him, then looked back to the man himself, “a medical person?” 

__

Again Aldo met with silence and a lidded-eyes look. “Yes, I’m a medical person. _You_ are a bleeding person. And so, our fates align.” 

__

Still with initial hesitation, Aldo eventually nodded and let the man approach close enough to have him turn his cheek for a better look. There was a hum then an order to follow him back to the truck where they stood by the opened drivers door. While the man dug for something, it gave Aldo the opportunity to look and admire the interior. So many buttons and doo-dads. 

__

“What’s your name?” 

__

“Aldo.” 

__

“Aldo,” he repeated, pulling back and turning around with a first aid kit in hand. He left it on the driver’s seat, popping it open and grabbing a blue latex glove, slipping it on then reaching for a sanitary wipe. As he ripped the square packet open, his hard gaze lingered on the kid. “Aren’t you a little young to be wandering around by yourself?” Slowly and gently he took hold of the boy’s face, turning it to dab the wipe around the cut. 

__

“I’m twelve.” A grimace nearly cut off his words, but the medic continued, dabbing the actual cut itself until he saw no more dirt or dried blood.

__

“That defends your case?” 

__

Aldo pursed his lips, watching the man dispose of the wipe then reach for a small capsule from the aid-kit. “What’s _your_ name? And why are _you_ out here by yourself?” 

__

There was a tug at the corner of the man’s lip, an amused smile that didn’t last long. With a gentle _snap_ , the capsule broke open and with little pressure a foggy ointment was squeezed onto his forefinger. “This will sting.” A brief warning for a quick act, swiftly lathering on the antiseptic. It did sting, but with the warning Aldo was prepared and barely flinched. “You said it yourself, I’m a medical person. I am here to do medical things.” Disposing of the now empty capsule, he searched for a larger than average Band-Aid. Once found, he ripped it open, "My name," then positioned it accordingly before sliding his thumb over the material to adhere it on, "is Ratchet.” 

__


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgivin'! Ready to slather mashed potatoes, bread, and turkey with gravy and induce yourself into a food coma? I sure am. I hope you all have a good and safe day! :) Also I have sooo many ideas for Poptimus and Dadchet moments, I'm cursing MYSELF for the slow burn :')

_Ratchet._ Either Aldo’s mind was read or his thoughtful look gave it away because soon he was pulled from it, being spoken to. 

“It’s unusual, I am aware.” 

“That’s okay,” Aldo reassured, and Ratchet grew a quirk in his brow, “there’s nothing wrong with unusual.” Earnest words they were, coming from a young mouth of all beings. The medic was met with an equally genuine gaze, brown and blue eyes unwavering. It was an acknowledging look. 

“No, there is not.” 

The gaze broke from distant chatter and ticking of wheels, although initially Ratchet paid only attention to how the boy rolled himself as subtly as possible to hide behind him. The growing wariness in Aldo’s eyes or the protective gesture to hold his hand over his cheek didn’t go by unnoticed either. The medic peeled off the latex glove and while doing so turned his shoulder to see a group of boys riding by on bicycles. They passed the road without a single glance to their direction, too occupied in their own loud words and antics to bother turning their heads. Knowing thoughts came to Ratchet’s mind, but his demeanor was otherwise uninfluenced. 

“You should go home.” 

Aldo’s gaze was brought back and watched as the man turned into the vehicle to dispose of the glove next. He started to pack away the first aid-kit too, the clasps locking with a click.

“The weather will further turn indecent, and your wheels hold no traction against snow or ice.” At the mention of Aldo’s skates, the boy raised his brows and threw a look down at them. “Do you live far?” 

“Mm, not so much if I take the deep roads.” 

“Deep." 

“Steep.” He corrected himself, but Ratchet’s face was unchanging, to which Aldo read as a need for further clarification. “The ones that go like this.” His arm moved into a downward slant. 

This child. 

“That is incredibly unsafe,” Ratchet inferred as he tucked away the first aid-kit, voice rumbly. “Is there someone you can call to pick you up?” Aldo hesitated, but shook his head no. There was a pause in the conversation, the medic eyeing the child in thought. He hummed. “You ought to get going then. Preferably on level ground.” 

“Okay,” a sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. This wasn’t the first time he’s been advised to be safe while journeying around. He technically did have a person to call for a pick up, but Aldo’s guilt led it to not be an option. At least not today, he could get through this on his own. He took a step back, beginning to put distance between himself and the medic. “Thank you for helping me, sir.” 

“You’re welcome,” Ratchet replied mid motion of re-entering the vehicle. From there, Aldo allowed his skates to roll him backwards, lingering for seconds before peeling his gaze away and turning to continue home in steady strides. It wasn’t long after had he vanished behind the first corner, something Ratchet had noted after adjusting the rear view mirror seemingly handless.

 _//Make sure he gets home safely. I needn’t remind you to be discrete.//_ The cabin was silent but the message was sent clear, no verbal words emitting from the mouth of the illusion of a man sitting in the drivers seat. The beige skin of the medic was disrupted by blue static, revealing a robotic undertone for seconds at a time. His eyes flashed a near neon teal. The static grew pronounced, taking over the holoform like a ripple on a wave before it vanished completely from existence. Even with no human body to do so, the drivers door closed shut. Moments after, a yellow Camaro drove by. 

Ratchet mentally pinged an old friend, the leader of the Autobots, next. _//It is alarmingly muted, Optimus, but it’s there. The child carries spark energy.//_

* * *

The following day continued mostly as normal. It was Saturday, so no school, but still Aldo was outside as much as he could for as long as he could, exploring the neighborhood before inevitably beginning to return to the foster home he shared with a handful of others. There wasn’t much chatter about the Band-Aid on his face when he returned the night prior, nothing a quick made-up excuse that the school nurse had helped him after a fall couldn’t justify. Ms. Laura, the home-owner and primary caregiver at Aldo’s current foster house, was a good hearted woman, but constantly busy - especially with some of the younger kids. A quick check in to see if he was okay was all the attention he got before she was off again. He supposed it didn’t bother him, at least that’s what he told himself - it wasn’t her fault, the little ones needed that attention more than he did. Aldo was fairly self-sufficient, always has been, he didn’t need a kiss on an owie or a hug to get by. 

From down the road, a black SUV was especially notable against the packed white snow covering the streets. Aldo didn’t recognize it, but the baby blue commuter car parked in front of it he knew belonged to his case-worker. The first thought that came to mind was maybe she was here for a checkup on his well being. A bit earlier than usual, but regardless Aldo picked up the pace. He wasn’t too far behind their arrival it seemed, the moment the front yard came into view, a young man, Jannet, and Ms. Laura were all gathered by the front door. 

Ms. Laura’s eyes met Aldo’s as soon as the boy was at the end of the stone path leading up to the porch, they carried a worrying surprise. Soon everyone else followed, turning their heads to set their attention on the boy. 

“Hey, Aldo!” Greeted Jannet who was quick to put a friendly smile on her face.

“Hey.” Aldo approached, watching as the unknown man gave him a courteous smile that was returned.

“This is Samuel,” she introduced, then did the same vise-versa. “Samuel, Aldo.” 

Samuel shifted his weight, lifting his arm to gesture for a friendly handshake. “You can call me Sam. I prefer it, actually.” Aldo obliged, slowly giving his hand. Their palms clasped and his arm nearly went numb with warm, tingly pinpricks. His body stilled, gazing at Sam whose face didn’t change aside from a slight narrowing of the eyes.

Aldo said nothing, quietness following confusion. Soon he felt a hand on the back of his head. It was Jannet. 

“Go and pack your things, whatever you can fit into your backpack.” 

“Oh, how - how come?” 

“Relocating to a new home,” she chirped, and despite her tone and smile, there was something stiff about her posture that made it suspicious. Aldo opened his mouth to speak, to further press on the question of _why_ , but she gently ushered him into the house before he could do so. Ms. Laura stepped aside to make room. “Go on now, questions can wait for the car ride.” 

To move homes wasn’t unusual, but in the manner that _this_ was happening… it was all but normal. He didn’t like how Ms. Laura seemed unsure as they said their goodbyes, or how they didn’t even go back to the main foster care facility first - or why that man, Sam, was at the house to begin with. There was a process to this, one Aldo was made very familiar with, and they were _not_ following it. He didn’t even ride back with Jannet, in fact they had said their goodbyes back at the house. His case-worker was one of the few people Aldo was made familiar with over the years, and now she is gone. Instead, he was in an unknown car with unknown people going to an unknown destination - his “new home” as Jannet briefly explained. She told him he was going to be okay, to not be afraid, but even he knew that was just something she said as an attempt to ease the concern. There was just so little detail, and everything moved so fast, it was impossible not to be nervous. 

The car ride was smooth and quiet, the thick tires of the SUV drove easy over any snow and as they made it onto a freeway he hardly felt any bumps. This all made it easier for his mind to clutter with thoughts. Traffic was relatively easy, it wasn’t jammed packed nor too barren, and if Aldo hadn’t spent most of his time gazing out the window, he wouldn’t have noticed how a particular car seemed to be at their side always. A white and blue McLaren 720S, though to Aldo he only saw it as a “cool looking car”. It’s windows were heavily tinted making it impossible to see any driver or passengers, which enticed the game of who-do-you-think-owns-it. For something loud and sporty like that, it reminded him of some big-time youtubers, the ones who were millionaires off of making game commentary, vlogs, or skits. A lot of them owned cars like that. So, a young face came to mind, a dude, probably as overly charismatic and hyper as them too. Or maybe he was a celebrity rapper.

The guessing game was brief, but at least yielded some anxiety while his mind was busy. Naturally his eyes carried him to look out the other window. A yellow Camaro with black racing stripes, windows just as tinted as the car riding in the lane left to them. He stiffened, and his grip on the seat belt tightened. About to lean to get a better look, a voice broke the silence. 

“I know this is odd, I won’t sugar coat it,” Sam began, grabbing Aldo’s attention save for a few side glances out the window. Their seats faced each other, all of the backseats did, yet another unfamiliar thing for the kid. “I’ll just get to the point, sound good?” Sam’s tone was chipper, figuring to approach this with normalcy rather than with diplomacy would make it less overwhelming. Aka: easy words, lax attitude, but to the point.

Aldo nodded.

“We are going to Diego Garcia, an island in the Indian Ocean.”

“Uh…”

“Not exactly broadcasted as a vacation hot-spot, I know. It used to be a U.S military airbase, but now resides as its own nation state to the Autobots.” 

“Auto - bots?” 

“The giant robots from space?” Sam pointed a finger to the roof though gestured to the great cosmos. "Ever heard of them?"

Aldo’s gaze was lingering, and from Sam’s point of view, staring into those giant, magnified brown and blue eyes (thanks to the strong prescription lens glasses), the this-guy-is-crazy-I-don’t-know-what-he’s-talking-about-or-why look couldn’t be any more obvious. 

“Umm,” Aldo finally began, and apparently he wasn't as clueless as Sam started to guess, “they - messed up the pyramids in Egypt,” he paused, “and there was a giant battle in Chicago. But, they fight for us. Against the bad ones.” 

There was a twinge in Sam’s eyes. “That’s - all you know? They don’t teach you anything else in school?” 

“They don’t teach us anything in school about it.” Aldo gave an innocent shrug, adding, “I’ve seen stuff about them on the internet. On youtube, mostly.” And of course, local gossip, but Aldo never took much part of it. Perks of having always lived in small towns, not much propaganda or protests happen, at least not to an intensely notable degree as compared to a big, populated city.

A prolonged silence settled among the cabin, and if Aldo didn’t know any better, it almost seemed like Sam was in a trance, staring intently at nothing long enough to make Aldo nervous. He began to wonder if maybe he had said something wrong. “Uh,” his voice croaked, tilting his head, “are - you okay?” 

Sam blinked and brought himself back to the conversation at hand. “Yeah - sorry. Lost in thought.” One way to put it. “Anyway, Diego Garcia acts as their home on Earth, I won’t bore you with the political stuff,” because there certainly was a lot of it, and Sam was keeping in mind he was talking to a twelve year old, “but other people live there too, mostly military families and other human personnel, so it’s not all robo-central.”

“The good ones?”

There was an unclear tilt of Sam’s head. 

“The good ones - the, Autobots?” Aldo paused, as if questioning if he connected two and two correctly. “They’re the only robots that live there?”

Sam’s lips were slightly apart, this time taking his own moment to allow his gaze to linger. Obviously this kid didn’t know much about the Autobots, much less would he the Decepticons, and if the majority of his knowledge derived from the internet and videos then all he would know was that there were the bad robots and then there were the good robots, some people seeing them all the same, both capable of mass violence and destruction. It was disheartening, especially given his personal relations with the Autobots, to know that Aldo was an example of the masses who just didn’t know anything about them other than the destruction and, unfortunately, collateral damage that came with war. With this in mind, Sam gave a gentle sigh through the nose and reassured, “Yeah, the good ones.” He crossed his arms, and somewhere among his thoughts he hummed and dipped his head. “Well, mostly. If you dismiss the cranky attitude of some-” A sudden grimace interrupted his words, Sam instinctively rubbing at his temple. 

Aldo only stared at the man, looking as lost as he had been this entire trip. But, it didn’t keep him from holding back the inevitable question. “I don’t-” he almost looked angry, but it was nothing more than intense confusion, boggled by how he ended up here when an hour ago he was building an army of mini snowmen and going about a normal winter day, “I don’t get it. Why am I here? Why - am I going _there_?”

“Your hand.” With a small shake of the head, Sam shook off the remainder of the cursory tension headache. 

“What?” 

“Your hand,” Sam gestured, “when we shook hands, you felt something, right?” 

Aldo raised his said hand, looking into his palm. Before he had the chance to reply, Sam continued. 

“And - you’ve felt it before.” 

The boy’s thoughts carried him to look out the window. To look at that Camaro. Sam’s gaze had followed, and almost simultaneously he and Aldo made eye contact again with an awareness in both of their eyes.

Once again, Aldo was met with an offering hand. For moments, he only looked at it, then looked to Sam, then back to his hand. Part of him didn’t want to. With just how weird this all was, he didn’t want it to get any weirder. But the other part of him, which was _slightly_ just enough to outweigh the other, was curious. So, with hesitance, Aldo took it and instantly his hand grew warm with tingles that crawled up his arm like spiders. It was stronger this time, as if now that he was aware to prepare for it, it became so obvious that it couldn’t have been a random phenomenon that his brain could so easily dismiss. 

Now bore the question, “What - is it?” Aldo’s fingers wiggled and gently squeezed Sam’s hand, as if to see if anything would change. It didn’t. The feeling remained constant and limited to only his arm. 

“It’s why you’re coming with us... And why we… had to… do it in a hurry.” Sam developed that look again, the one focused on something other than what was here, to Aldo’s perspective at least. The intense gaze settled on their hands and Aldo didn’t know what to say. At least this time Sam seemed to notice, pulling himself out of it long enough to shoot Aldo a look. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I just concentrate for a moment?” 

Without feeling like there was much obligation to say no, the boy nodded. 

While Aldo had physically explored their hand grab, Sam had begun a mental exploration of the energy he carried within him, and why it was so - feeble and limited. It was such a dim spark, Aldo’s energy, both literally and figuratively, though it’s weakness didn’t reek of death but rather was like a dispersed cloud of gas having yet come together to make a new star. It was intriguing as it could be worrying, but Sam knew well enough that now wasn’t the appropriate time nor place to test these waters beyond a simple observation. He gently pulled away his hand, closing it in a fist and resting it on his knee. In turn, Aldo also retracted his hand, wiggling his fingers and shaking out his arm, curiously watching it as the strange feeling faded away. 

“So - what was that again?” 

“A-” Sam lapsed, wondering how he should explain it without losing the kid completely.

Aldo cocked his head, “what” written all over his face.

“It was - a connection between residual energy, of sorts. The same kind that the Autobots have.”

“The robots? But - why do you have it?” As if it suddenly hit him, his next words stammered as they came out. “A-And why do _I_ have it?”

Something of a humored smile tugged at Sam’s lips, resting his head against the headrest then tilting it just enough to peer out the window and at that Camaro. “Humans and _these robots_ ,” as Aldo put it, “can be just as similar as we are different.” Sam looked back. “You and I are prime examples.” 

“...”

“What?”

“I just - this all sounds weird.” 

A chuckle escaped Sam’s throat before he could even think about holding it back. “You don’t believe me?” 

“I-er, don’t know.” 

“Well, if you’re a ‘don’t believe it ‘til I see it’ type guy, then you’ll have all the proof soon enough.” Sam worked on digging his phone from his coat pocket, slipping in, “Look hard enough, you’ll see it already.” 

“Huh-?”

“Okay, more of that stuff later. Let's skip to the fun bits. You get your own apartment, all expenses paid for, congrats, you’re ahead of the game than most adults. Now, anything in particular you want? PlayStation, Xbox, or you a PC type of guy?” 

Aldo was too wrapped up in trying to keep up to let his confusion silence him this time. “I’ve never had any of that. But I don't like to be indoors for too long anyway, I like to skate.”

Sam, thumbs hovered and ready over his phone to type a list and send to someone else, questioned further, “Like a skateboard?” 

“No, roller skates.” 

“Oh,” the man pulled back, “cool. You need a pair?" In their haste, and to par with regulations even Sam thought were unnecessary, what Aldo was allowed to bring was heavily limited. Judging by that small backpack, Sam reckoned he must've left them behind.

There was a perk in his posture, his fingers grabbing at the end of his seat and unable to resist the child-like smile that pulled at his lips. "Really?"

"Yeah, man, part of an alien government takin' ya is that they gotta take care of ya, right?" Sam snickered, already adding it to the list. "What else?” 

Aldo may be at a complete loss at what was happening to his life, and honestly unsure how to digest all the information just given, but if these were truly the cards handed to him…“A PlayStation would be awesome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, Comments, Ideas, and Kudos are always appreciated! Beware of the tags as they may change as the story progresses.


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